I won't beg for the friendship of others

I’m sitting on my oversized loveseat, sipping coffee and wondering why I’m enveloped in a feeling of unease. 

Not foreboding, just unease. The unease that happens with change and situations that shift. I’m not a New Year’s resolution girl but more of a “make a list and get shit done” kind of girl. But I’m feeling like a soft, gentle sweep of closure is settling over me. Chosen by me. And maybe some of this are the feelings that swirl.

I’ve written about pulling back, shortening my messages and saving things for catchup conversations rather than spilling and sharing every little thing immediately. I’ve written about stepping back and thinking about situations and then replying, without emotion. 

In addition to being more mindful, more thoughtful and approaching situations with clarity, it has also allowed me to both choose me and choose others depending on the situation. It’s allowing me to choose balance.

I’ve had two specific instances in the last couple weeks where my shift has resulted in choosing myself in situations where I normally wouldn’t. In one case, I was invited to a Christmas party where the people in attendance were people from the drag racing community. People I associated with when I was married but people with whom I no longer have a connection. 

I was invited as an olive branch extension but I knew almost immediately that I wouldn’t be going. I’m more than good to attend events solo but I also am reluctant to put myself into situations where I know people but it will be awkward. I was sent a reminder text a few days before that party and I composed a kind, thoughtful and short response. I extended thanks for the invite and the reminder. I declined the invite and said why: that I no longer belong in that group. And I closed with wishes for a beautiful holiday season. And, with that, I closed the door on a part of my life that no longer fits who I am as a single woman. I’ve put distance between me and people who no longer connect. I felt peace and calmness. Knowing where I belong — and where I don’ — and acknowledging that growth sometimes means leaving people in a previous chapter. And that is OK. 

The second instance is a little trickier. It’s with a friend who I worked with at the airline. Someone who I’ve known for many years. He’s got an incredibly complicated schedule and juggles his personal life to fit. There was a time, a few years back, where we saw each other about quarterly. The last year, however, we haven’t. In fact, the last time I saw him was a year ago. In the past year, I’ve reached out to see if he wanted to get together and he assures me he does and will get back to me with dates. But he never does. Sporadic text messages with the words “let’s get together soon,” which are empty when there are no actions to back them. There was a reach out at the beginning of November. My response was that I’d like to see him; however, the ball was in his court to come up with dates. His response was that he would and we’d see each other before he goes home for Christmas. Silence. Three days before he leaves, a message —“my bad” — with explanations. Also a line about seeing if I’d like to get together upon his return, the second week of January. 

My initial response would’ve been to send an emotional, immediate reply. Instead, I sat with the message. Slept on it. Took the emotion out. And what I was left with was I think I’m good. I’m good with the friendship drifting away. I’m good with no longer making the effort. A big reason why I’m good is that I’ve come to realize that when actions and words don’t align, I get hurt and confused. When you say you want the same thing as me — to  connect and catch up in person — when you say I’m important enough to spend time with but then make no effort to do so, I’m left feeling like I’m begging for a seat at the table. And, respectfully, I’m done begging. 

My next-day response was to wish him safe travels. A joyful Christmas. And all the best in the New Year. I chose not to respond to the curiosity of whether or not I was interested in connecting in the New Year. I always like to see my friends. But it can no longer be at the expense of crashing my hopes, the hopes I feel when I get excited at the thought of being with him. 

This was hard. So fucking hard. It could be the end of our connection. But, then again, did we have a connection? If our connection was simply text messages dashed off telling me how busy he is and issuing empty words about getting together, I think our connection wasn’t very strong. Still, I hate to sever the cord, which is why I’ll just leave my message as is. I’ll kill my impulse to over-explain; to say, “Oops, forgot to add I’d love to see you in January."

I’m not angry or upset. I’m not hurt. I’m simply living in acceptance and doing what’s best for me. 

Maybe my feel of unsettling is that I don’t want to carry into a New Year some of the same patterns and habits that cause me hurt or confusion. Not, at least, when I have the opportunity to bring resolution to them. Maybe that also means not bringing some of the people I’ve known for many years into the New Year as well. 

I’ve talked about letting some relationships drift. I’ve put a lot of effort — in some cases, way too much effort — into friendships where what I’m getting back isn’t equal to what I put in. Maybe the New Year means not fighting to hold onto  relationships where I’m seated at a different table. I’ve done that for far too long these last four plus years as a single woman. It is, perhaps, time to refocus my efforts and energy on the people who say what they mean and mean what they say. I think that these two situations where I’ve chosen to do just that prove that I can do it strongly and boldly.